


It's only that I get more intertwined

by stepantrofimovic



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Academia, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward boys are awkward, First Dates, M/M, Multi, Professor!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepantrofimovic/pseuds/stepantrofimovic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can't say he isn't a bit nervous, taking Phil to <em>The Rising Tide</em> for their first date (is it a date? yep, it's definitely a date, no fooling himself on that), but for now, at least, it seems to be working.</p><p>An impromptu sequel to "And when now from the book I raise my eyes".</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's only that I get more intertwined

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And when now from the book I raise my eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032658) by [stepantrofimovic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepantrofimovic/pseuds/stepantrofimovic). 



> So, someone asked for the coffee scene in the comments on "And when now from the book I raise my eyes". And, of course, I ended up writing the coffee scene, because I don't have a problem with turning things into series, nope, not at all.
> 
> Again, title is my own translation of a line from Rilke's _Der Lesende_.

“So. Uh. Coffee, I believe you mentioned coffee at some point.”

Well, as Thor would say, _smooth, my friend Barton, you are not_. Then, again, it’s not Clint’s fault he’s a little distracted right now. It doesn’t happen every day that the hot guy you were ogling in the library decides to ask you out for coffee. The fact that they’ve just stepped outside the building and Clint is currently being treated to the view of Phil Coulson smiling and squinting against the sun behind his glasses in the most adorable way ever known to man might be playing a part in his momentary lack of focus. Also, there have been a few flights of stairs involved on their way out of the building, and damn if that suit doesn’t cling to all the right places.

Tl;dr: Clint might be a little distracted at the moment. Phil, on the contrary, seems very focused on his answer to Clint’s question. Which suggests to Clint that actually listening to what he’s saying instead of mentally writing odes to his cute crow’s feet might be a good idea.

“… so, uh, I mean, I usually get a cup of coffee as soon as I leave home, and I have a coffee maker in my office if I want some later, and anyway my best friend hates the stuff, so we always go to this new-age tea place she likes – which is very nice, believe me, but you can’t even mention coffee to them ’cause they’ll just glare at you like the philistine you are, and I don’t really have many people beside Melinda to go get coffee with, or tea, or anything, so, well –”

 _Aww, Phil, you’re babbling. It’s cute as hell._ Okay, Barton, _no_ , inappropriate response. Apparently, Kate’s training on “how not to be creepy on first dates” has sunk in, because Clint manages to rein his tongue in long enough to properly pay attention to what Phil is saying. It takes him a moment to understand, but when he does, he bursts out laughing. Judging from the way Phil grimaces and flushes beet-red, that could probably have been avoided, so he scrambles to make up for it.

“Wait, wait. Are you telling me you don’t know a coffee shop nearby?”

“… yes. Yes, that was it. Sorry.” Phil is staring at his shoes. _Oh, god, please stop._ Why, just why did Clint think it was a good idea to agree on a date with the most adorable man ever? Oh, did he mention he’s a faculty professor? And Clint has half a plan to get himself a position in the same department, which means they’ll be seeing each other every day for god knows how long. Years, probably. Considering Clint’s stellar relationship record, the chances this isn’t going to turn into a painfully awkward working partnership are approximately zero.

He takes a deep breath and tries not to dwell on the thought of how this whole thing is absolutely doomed to fail. At least he has a solution for the problem at hand. “I guess we’re lucky that I’m a coffee fiend, then. I need my fix right before I get to work, so I found a place nearby. I, uh, think it’s nice. We could try going there.”

Phil’s face brightens as he smiles in response. Okay, here’s another expression Clint’s going to want to see again soon. “Great. Lead the way, then.”

***

 _The Rising Tide_ is hidden in a small square between the two main avenues that lead to the campus. Well, Clint’s not sure that “hidden” is the right word, given that an entire wall of the coffee shop is made of floor-to-ceiling stained glass, but whatever. It’s cozy, the light is great, and honestly, Skye’s coffee would make him go back to the place if it were a dungeon.

The door is open, letting the fresh spring air in, but no one’s manning the counter. As Clint and Phil enter, a young woman appears out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of something that inundates the main room with the sweet smell of warm butter.

“Hi, Jemma.” Clint gives a small wave in her direction. She whips her head in surprise, but as soon as she recognizes him, she waves back somewhat timidly.

“Oh, hello, Clint! Skye’s right on her way, she should be arriving any moment now.” Her British accent is soothing to the ear, as usual. Clint glances at Phil, and notices the lines of a smile beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. _So far, so good._ He can’t say he isn’t a bit nervous, taking Phil to _The Rising Tide_ for their first date (is it a date? yep, it’s definitely a date, no fooling himself on that), but for now, at least, it seems to be working.

“Y-you should take a seat, while you’re waiting,” a male voice stammers out from behind Jemma. A moment later, a young, curly-haired man appears at Jemma’s side. She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and squeezes his hand before shooing him back into the kitchen.

“Sorry, Leo always wants to have a look at who comes in.” Jemma’s smile is fond, if a tad embarrassed. “But he’s right, you know, do have a seat!” She motions them cheerfully towards Clint’s favorite table. It’s in a corner, so both of them can sit with their backs to the wall, and it has a clear view of both the counter and the entrance. If Phil notices the position, he doesn’t comment on it.

“This place looks… nice. I never noticed it before. Is it new?” Clint shrugs as he sits down. “Oh, god, sorry, of course you have no idea, you’ve been here for how long, a week? I should have –” Phil trails off in embarrassment and looks down again. Clint is starting to get the feeling that he’s at least as nervous as himself. It still makes him feel a little too warm on the inside, to know that Phil is considerate enough to regret a slip as small as this one.

Before he can collect himself enough to reply, a girl-shaped whirlwind comes in through the front door. She marches up to the counter, drops her purse behind it and dips – yes, dips – Jemma down for a kiss before turning her attention to the rest of the room, where Clint is already grinning at her. “Hello, Skye.”

“Clint! Good morning!” Then she spots Phil, and her eyebrows jump up in the universal “hey, I know this person” expression. “Professor Coulson?”

Phil, who’s just sat down, rises to his feet again. “Miss Johnson.”

Clint sees Skye’s flinch at the name, and it’s a gesture he knows too well to pretend he’s unaffected by it. Still, she looks nonchalant enough as she answers, “That’s my father’s name. I prefer Skye.”

Phil seems to hesitate at that. Clint feels his stomach plummet as he gets ready to intervene, to ask him to please do as she says, because Phil might not know what it’s like to be Mr. Barton, the son of Barton the drunk and brother of Barton the convict, but Clint does, and he’s not about to let Skye get the same treatment from anyone, date or not.

It’s times like these that Clint wonders if he shouldn’t try and get a little less involved, for a change.

Phil, however, ends up answering Skye with another warm smile. “Okay, then. Skye it is. Nice to learn you’re still here.”

“You two – know each other?” Past the name-related scare, now Clint is curious as hell.

“I taught a World Literature course a couple of years ago.”

“And I took it. Best course ever.” Skye’s gone back to busying herself at the counter as she speaks, so her next remark comes out from behind the coffee machine. “With bonus hot teacher.”

Clint chokes on his laughter, mostly because Phil’s flushing a shade of red so deep he’s pretty sure it counts as purple. Apparently, Skye decides it’s time to spare him from further embarrassment, because she goes on nonchalantly with, “Anyway, did you want something to drink?”

“A double espresso, black,” Clint manages to gasp out between the last fits of giggles.

“Aw, Clint, no. You’re terrible.” She pulls a face at him. It’s in moments like this that she reminds him of Kate. “And you, professor?”

“Oh, no,” Phil seems to have gotten his wits back enough to at least be polite. “If I’m going to call you Skye, it’s Phil. And I’d like a hazelnut latte, please.”

“Oh, now _that_ is something I can work with. Clint, please, take note. Any allergies I should know about?”

Phil frowns. “I – yes, I’m allergic to peaches, but _what_?”

“Okay, great, thanks,” Skye says dismissively as she disappears behind the coffee-maker again.

“I’m confused,” Phil remarks as he sits back down. He doesn’t seem offended, however, so Clint lets himself relax another fraction. Okay, so maybe _The Rising Tide_ was a bit of a risky choice for a first date, but it still seems to be going pretty well.

“I understand. You see, well, this place is –”

“Peculiar?”

“Yeah. Obviously. But Skye – she’s great at coffee. Like, artist-level great. And she likes to, you know, match people with coffee. So she’s going to change your order to something she knows you’ll love, and bring you that instead of what you’ve asked for. I – I hope you don’t mind?” It comes out hesitant. _No, Clint, this was a terrible idea, what were you even thinking, he’s a well-mannered professor who wears a suit to work, he’s never going to like this kind of place._

But Phil relaxes back into his seat. “Oh. It’s – nice. Now I’m curious.” The crinkles around his eyes deepen. “I thought she was an interesting girl when she took my class, you know. I’m really glad to see her again. _And_ she appears to have settled down – in more than one sense.” As he says that, he directs an eloquent glance towards the kitchen. Framed by the door, Jemma is ruffling Leo’s hair. He turns around and shyly drops a kiss on her palm.

Clint tenses up again. _Here we go._

“So. Skye and Jemma. Jemma and – was it Leo?” Clint nods. Phil is still smiling. He hopes it’s a good sign. “Leo and Skye?”

“No, Leo’s strictly monogamous. For now, at least.” _Better get this out of the way as soon as possible._ Clint knows that neither Jemma nor Skye mind, and if Leo’s a bit shy about the whole thing, he’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t feel like there’s anything to hide if people ask directly. “Then there’s Trip.”

“Who?”

“Name’s Antoine, I think, but he goes by Trip. He’s a new addition to the team, as far as I know. He came here not much sooner than I did, and he’s Skye’s boyfriend now. Jemma likes him a lot, though I’m still not sure where they stand exactly, and Leo – well, don’t ever mention it to him, or he’ll get all embarrassed and I’ll have ruined weeks of progress, but he seems very interested, and Trip’s definitely on board with it.” Clint realizes he’s averted his eyes when he looks up and sees Phil hiding a private smile. He feels something ease in his chest at the sight.

“Well, I can’t say I don’t understand Leo’s position.”

“Being the only monogamous partner in a poly relationship?”

Phil chuckles. “I was thinking about falling for the hot new guy, but yes, I guess the second one applies too. I mean, not that I am in a poly relationship. Or have ever been. Or that I am in a relationship at all right now. But I wouldn’t be averse to that, if my partner – oh, dammit, I’m talking ahead of myself again, am I?” he stammers out, blushing all over again.

Clint, however, is too caught up in his own relief and the warmth blooming in his chest to pay much attention to Phil’s confusion. “Maybe. I guess. I’m glad you’re okay with –” he gestures vaguely “– all this, anyway.”

Skye chooses that moment to step out from behind the counter, carrying two big, steaming mugs. Neither of them looks or smells like it contains just coffee. Clint takes his from the tray and inhales deeply. The brew is dark, with intense overtones of chocolate and a hint of something fruity he can’t quite place yet. He takes a sip: dark chocolate, mixed with the sharp tang of raspberry, and strong, bitter coffee as the stable foundation underlying it all. That’s what he likes about Skye’s brews, that he can always taste the coffee, as elaborate as the result may be. He sighs a little into the mug, happily, before he remembers Phil.

Phil, who’s currently staring down into his cup of much-lighter liquid with the slightest hint of a foam mustache on his upper lip ( _fuck yes_ , goes Clint’s libido) and an expression like he’s just tasted ambrosia.

“This,” he declares solemnly after a pause, “is amazing.”

He looks up at Clint through his lashes, and fuck it, Clint is in love. He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat before asking, “What did she put in there?”

“Caramel and amaretto,” Skye answers before Phil can speak again.

“ _Yes_ ,” Phil confirms, still visibly distracted (and if Clint finds himself wondering whether his voice would sound the same in bed, so sue him), “but what on Earth did you _do_ to the foam?”

Skye grins and bounces up and down a little. She definitely reminds Clint of Kate. “I _knew_ it would work! New recipe. A couple of tips from an Italian friend.”

“Well, tell them it worked great. Better than. Seriously, this is the best thing I’ve ever tried.” Phil’s full-blown smile follows Skye as she retreats to the kitchen.

Clint can’t help grinning back at Phil for the umpteenth time that morning. He knows he’s falling for the man, hard and fast, and he’s definitely not concerned enough about that. He tries to hide the fact that his heart is racing. “You know you’re going to get a pastry for that remark, do you?”

“… am I?”

“Yup.” Clint nods solemnly, and proclaims, “You made Skye happy. Jemma will see to your reward.” He doesn’t realize how low his voice has dipped as he said that until he sees Phil’s pupils widen hungrily. _Oh._

There’s a moment of awkward silence, until they both decide to go back to their beverages. Then Phil fixes an unexpectedly sharp gaze on Clint and asks, “If I hadn’t been okay with Skye and the others being poly, would it have bothered you?”

Clint nods. “Yes. A lot.” He tries to pretend he’s suddenly very interested in the way his coffee swirls when he rotates the mug in his hands. It isn’t terribly convincing. Phil waits for a few seconds, but as soon as it’s clear that Clint isn’t going to elaborate, he makes a gesture like he’s physically pushing the topic aside and opens his mouth to speak again.

“It’s just, I have a friend, at home,” Clint starts, all of a sudden. Phil shuts his mouth immediately. “More like a sister, really. She’s this dainty Russian girl – you know, petite, red hair, porcelain skin, the whole package. She met a guy a few years ago – she’s twenty-seven, he’s around fifty. Also, he’s black, six foot six, ex-military, and he lost an eye in Iraq, so he wears an honest-to-God eye-patch. Not kidding. So, basically, she’s a perfect Russian doll and he’s, well, the scariest black guy ever. And they’re dating.”

He pauses for a second to catch his breath. “And people are assholes,” Phil interjects, nodding.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I thought when it started. People are assholes, everyone knows that, it’s best not to let it bother you, right? Then I thought, well, fuck it. If people being assholes means they get to hurt my best friend, I’m not going to stand for it. And so I started being bothered.”

He doesn’t tell Phil about how meeting Nick has put an end to Natasha’s stints in rehab, the relapses, to the nights Clint would spend holding her as she went through withdrawal all over again. How Nick has helped Nat cut her last ties to the organization which had brought her to the US, get a stable job, start to trust the system again. But he can’t help thinking about all that, and all of a sudden the coffee tastes like bile at the back of his throat.

He doesn’t notice he’s clenched his fists on the table until Phil reaches out and covers one of them with his own hand. He rubs small circles on it with his thumb, and Clint feels the hurt and anger melt away. He should be scared that a person he’s just met has this kind of effect on him. He isn’t, not really.

Phil squeezes briefly on Clint’s hand and rises to his feet. “If I’m really going to get something to eat, I’d better go wash my hands. Excuse me for a minute, will you?” It’s not the subtlest way to give Clint space, but it’s still a kind gesture. Another one.

Clint doesn’t get much time to mull over his feelings on the matter, because Phil has just disappeared into the restroom when Skye comes up to their table with another tray. “From Jemma,” she says with a grin. “On the house, obviously.”

On the tray is a very dignified-looking cupcake and a plate with a disturbing amount of vaguely cake-shaped whipped cream. With chocolate sprinkles and cherries on top. Clint eyes it suspiciously. “You’re very nice. Both of you. Which one of these is for me?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d share,” she winks.

Clint has the sudden desire to disappear under the table. “That obvious, huh?”

“Yep. Especially when he takes your hand like that.”

“… guess so,” Clint mumbles.

“He’s a nice guy, you know.”

“I hope. You know, I’ve only met him this morning.”

Skye glances briefly at the ceiling, as if debating whether or not to share something with him. Clint is 90% sure it’s all for show. “When I took his class,” she says at last, “I cheated on my last paper.”

Clint waits for her to elaborate. “I – I wasn’t in a good place at the time. I’d just started figuring out a few things about my family – that my father isn’t exactly Model Dad, and my mother thinks she can fix the problem, but she can’t, and I – so, well, I didn’t think I could do it. I was about to drop out of uni anyway, so I thought, why should I bother? I plagiarized, took a review from a blog and turned it in as my last essay. I’d even read the book, you know – I just didn’t care about the whole thing any more. When Coulson found out – he could have failed me right away. Instead, he called me to his office and explained why plagiarism in academia is unacceptable. Then he asked me to redo the whole thing. I said I didn’t care, I was dropping out, so he could fail me if he wished. He wouldn’t budge. He kept saying he wanted that report in a week. That he wanted to read what _I_ had to say. I – it made me feel like someone was giving me a second chance. It’s probably stupid, really – I guess I didn’t need much at the time.”

“So that’s why he recognized you.”

“Yes. And he could easily have mentioned it, especially after I provoked him with that stupid ‘hot teacher’ remark – but he didn’t.”

Clint nods. “I get what you’re saying.”

“Yeah. I think you do.”

Phil chooses that moment to come back from the restroom. “Did I miss something? Oh, god. Is that Black Forest cake? Tell me it’s Black Forest cake.” The look of childish joy on his face when Skye confirms that yes, it’s Black Forest cake, and the cupcake is a lemon cupcake “with a twist” (which, as Clint finds out not much later, consists of citron jam and candied ginger) puts the final seal on Clint’s now undeniable crush.

Kate will tease him as long as he lives, he thinks. Not to mention Natasha. Not even two weeks in a new place and he’s already found someone to fall in love with.

As he looks at Phil, seeing the way his eyes crinkle and shine while he tries to convince him to have a bite of the Black Forest cake (“I promise, it’s not _all_ whipped cream, you’ll like it”), Clint finds himself unable to think this was a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Repeat after me: This is not a coffee shop AU. Nuh-uh. No way.
> 
> Ok, who am I kidding, I totally wrote a coffee shop AU. I _did_ say this was the next step, didn't I?
> 
> (self-promotion time: I have [a tumblr](http://stepantrofimovic.tumblr.com/). Come say hi.)


End file.
